Friends
by indigowaterbears
Summary: April and Owen watch Amelia and Jackson leave the hospital happily together, it seems a lot changed in their absence. Set during 11x22.


_I was debating whether I should call this the never ending one shot. Seriously, though, I just kept writing and writing and then when I reread it to check it, it took me like half an hour. I'm dead. Not sure about how the interactions with the characters, but in my head it was a nice, original idea, the result I'm not qualified to judge. Let me know what you think about mixing all these characters, it wasn't too exotic, but fun to explore nonetheless. Bye peeps. Have a good read_

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Owen turned when he heard April scoff again. It had been a quiet and relatively enjoyable day, they had both been in the ER, which meant half the work, and no catastrophes natural or otherwise had struck. Ever since she'd returned from Iraq she'd changed, he had noticed it even though he'd been with her the entire time. Some liked the change, others just didn't. A cruel twist of fate had wanted her own husband couldn't deal with it. Owen certainly wasn't about to blame Jackson for it, he had an idea what it did to people to deal with that kind of change. Cristina had saved him, but things were different then. April was quiet. More than usual. More than she had become in this past year. Losing her son and spending nearly eight months in the war zone had taken a toll. Today, though, she had been uncharacteristically quiet, even for Kepner 2.0. He never asked, the last thing he needed was more drama in his life and his relationship with her wasn't purely professional, but he couldn't go as far as saying they were friends. He was her mentor, so professionally he was there for her and always would be, but personally he wasn't even in the right place to give advice on that, his marriage had failed after all. When he heard her snap at a nurse, though, he couldn't hold it in anymore, bad mood happened, short fuse, whatever one could call it, but she was in no way allowed to take it out on other people. "Kepner." He warned sternly.

She held his gaze for a minute before looking away, biting her cheek nervously. "Sorry. She's just useless. I had to tell her four times the order of the beds, come on, how hard can it be?"

Owen frowned and tilted his head. Something was going on and he had a feeling he was about to dive right in the middle of it. He had resolutely told himself to keep personal and professional separated, a lesson that had cost him more than he had to give, but now he was not so sure that was the right course of action anymore. "Kepner she's new. Cut her a little slack or we're going to have any nurses left at this rate."

She looked at him and her hard eyes slowly softened up, revealing a vulnerability she'd been trying so hard to cover up it was destroying her. April sighed and shook her head, sitting on the ER's reception desk, pursing her lips dejectedly. "I'm sorry." She pressed her finger to her forehead, there was a pinching pain right there that in a few hours was going to turn into a full blown headache. "I've been having a bit of a hard time lately and I'm not handling it as well as I should."

Owen nodded, giving a look that he hoped would comfort her somehow. "I can understand that. We all do and if you need to take a few days, I'm sure Ricard wouldn't hesitate, but if you're here you have to be here."

"Thanks." April gave a sad chuckle and looked up thankfully at Owen. "But it's not about me and Jackson separating." Owen raised his eyebrows curiously, he was never one to follow gossip, but as far as he'd heard around there was nothing else going on with April. "It's how fast he's moved on. We're just separated, technically we're still married no matter how much it doesn't feel like it anymore. He's already seeing other people." She sighed, ignoring Owen's surprise. "And the worse thing is, he's not even trying to hide it. They walk in together, they walk out together, they have lunch here together. It feels as if he's trying to show me that he doesn't need me."

Owen was a bit taken aback by this. He had never been Jackson Avery's biggest fan, not when he first came, not even now. He'd seen him grow up over the years, mostly as a doctor, but this sounded definitely out of character. He was no Alex Karev or Mark Sloan and he was fully committed to April. Owen would never blame him for giving April the ultimatum, in a way he knew it was hard and he couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for him all this time, if he'd found Amelia on the verge of relapsing, for him it couldn't have been much better. He'd gone back to the army because he felt he had nothing left, no one left and nothing overall left to lose. April had obviously gone for different reasons. "Avery? I haven't noticed him around with anyone."

April's eyebrow raised in surprise. "Out of everyone I though _you_ would have noticed."

Owen was confused. There was a part of him telling him she meant because they had spent months in the desert together they were now the kind of friends who noticed these things; the other part of him heard some sort of subtext to her words, but still had no idea what she meant. So he thought about it, he couldn't say he gave much attention to Jackson Avery's movements around the hospital, but he tried anyway. Nothing. Nada, zilch, zero. "Why would I have noticed?"

April's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, looking into Owen's eyes she felt caught, trapped. She couldn't tell him. Couldn't do that to him. She had no idea what they were, but she was definitely not blind and her happy, tingly, wedding spider senses were extremely reliable. And she'd spent months in the desert with him. Sleeping on a cot twenty feet away, she was a light sleeper and he mumbled in his sleep more often than not. Again, if anyone had told her the army would cost her her marriage maybe she wouldn't have gone. Maybe she would have found something else that didn't mean losing the only good thing she had left. So maybe Owen deserved to know and be able to make that choice for himself. "It's Amelia Shepherd."

Owen did not believe this. Couldn't, not for one second. There was no way Amelia Shepherd was going out with Jackson Avery. As April had said he was still married and secondly he didn't even think he and Amelia had said two words to each other since she came to work here. So the same Amelia who spend at least two nights a week in his bed, sleeping next to him because her house felt haunted and she didn't trust herself to be alone, could not be dating someone and definitely not Jackson Avery. "That's… Are you sure?"

April just nodded sadly and Owen's heart sank. He wanted it to be a lie, wanted it to be just something she was making up, but the way her eyes turned glassy and her face just fell, he knew she was telling the truth. He was surprised at how deeply it still hurt. Amelia was a friend, for now, their relationship was not a friendship – he had a lot of friends and it didn't feel like that to spend time with them. Being around Amelia was easy, familiar, comforting. It made him feel safe and it calmed all his insecurities and worries and fears. She made things better. He realised then he was a moron, an utter and complete moron. Amelia was seeing someone new because he was being her friend. All the same, he was furious at her for not telling him she wanted more, for not letting him know she was ready for more. He'd truly believed their relationship, on the whole, and their connection were reasons enough for her to turn to him as soon as she was good enough to be thinking about that. Yet she'd ended up with Jackson Avery. It sounded even more stupid every time he thought of it. His name. What self respecting doctor had a name as a last name and a last name as a name. It was ridiculous, it sounded ridiculous and he was mad at Amelia for not seeing how ridiculous it all was. He was mad because two days ago he'd woken up in the morning and noticed that she'd rolled closer to him during the night and her hand was in his, something he wasn't aware had happened, their fingers entwined tightly. He was trying not to push her, not to say too much or say the wrong thing, letting her move around in this new space, in this new world where her brother didn't exist anymore, where his wife and kids were gone and she had no one left to turn to. Keeping an eye on her was easy when they lived so close, so dinners and movie nights had evolved into sleepovers and, now, they had mutely agreed they could skip the excuse and jump to the sleepover part, the one she really needed. Someone to be there when she felt most vulnerable.

"See that?"

He turned in the direction April was pointing. He could clearly see Amelia and Avery standing outside the hospital, laughing at something one of them had said. She'd playfully punched his shoulder and he'd leaned in closed to whisper something that had her burst into tearful laughter once more. Owen could only stare. He wondered briefly if Amelia had a twin, because the only way he could imagine the Amelia that spent the night in his trailer being the same Amelia in front of him was as if there were two of her. He glanced at April, whose eyes were glued to those two as well, but when she looked away, a sob caught in her throat, he turned back. Amelia was fishing something out of her bag, he couldn't tell what it was from so far away, but it looked a lot like a sweater or a sweatshirt, and she handed it to Avery. He seemed to thank her and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they walked away. Owen just stared into space, right where Amelia had been standing until a few minutes ago. When he heard April let out a shaky breath he turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She sobbed, tried to choke down the hiccups and desperately trying to stop crying. "I shouldn't have told you. It wasn't my place…"

Owen just took her hand, if only he could break down in the middle of the ER like that he probably would. A woman crying for whatever reason was acceptable, but a man crying was the apocalypse. He thanked all the training the army had forced on him, in particular his enviable ability to stuff down emotions and feelings and reactions, like a true soldier.

She shook her head – the ER was deserted enough that she wasn't too worried about who might see her dissolve in tears over a boy. "I didn't believe it at first, but then I kept seeing them together all the time. I wasn't sure until she let something slip about the view from our-Jackson's apartment." She sniffled, willing the sobs to stop. Her life looked nothing like what she'd left it. "It hurts so much, you know?"

Owen glanced at her, only for a few brief seconds. He wished he could say or do something to make her feel better, to make it all better, but truth was, even though he wasn't married to Amelia, he wasn't feeling all that peachy either. He was angry, angry at himself for letting her go, or rather not fighting enough for her. In this exact moment he remembered that the last words he'd spoken to her, just before he told her her brother was dead, were to compare their… possible life as a couple to a plane crash. Not any plane crash at that, the one with Cristina in it. The one with Meredith and Derek. That had been the nail on the coffin, the last straw. He'd been hurt at her work and play comment, deeply hurt. He'd been well aware of the rumours going around about her, but when they were together they were easy to ignore because it felt nothing like a meaningless fling to him. He'd regretted saying he was done, yet when she tried to talk he shot her down, not wanting to feel anymore of that pain that had anguished him for days. It seemed she was now done as well. He was a good friend and nothing more and it hurt. "Yeah, I know."

She tried to smile and looked at the clock, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You should go. Your shift ended a while ago and I can handle the ER on my own. I don't need company."

He'd never thought it possible, but he hesitated. Not because of the welcome distraction the ER posed, but to keep her company, for real. His life was evolving in all sorts of surprising and unexpected ways and he was not at all thrilled at that. He sighed. At least he had alcohol at home and he could see if Amelia would come back home tonight as well. Spending the night in an on-call room wondering if she was home or if she was somewhere else with Avery sounded like torture, knowing at least would let him sleep for a few hours. Maybe. "Are you sure?"

April nodded sadly. "Yeah. I've known for a while. I think I can restrain myself from running off any nurses for the rest of the night."

Owen chuckled nervously. "Good. I know how hard it is to convince them to stay so please refrain. Richard's enjoying his time as interim chief, but the second something like that happens he'll hand the sceptre right back to me."

"Well, you're a good chief." he nodded, smiling, feeling bad for her. Especially when he knew she was feeling even worse for telling him. For making him feel bad. "I'm sorry about that. Honestly I've been debating for a while if I should tell you or ask you, but it never really felt like it was my place to do so."

He exhaled loudly. It hurt, but knowing made him see things more clearly. "I'm glad you did and I'm sorry too, I didn't see this coming."

She nodded sadly and he left. Owen found himself driving into the woods with no recollection of getting changed and leaving the hospital. He had no memory of getting to the woods. His head was so full of thoughts and feelings and it was trying to block it all out at the same time. It was a mess. In the end, it seemed he'd done this all by himself. He'd left – left her – in every possible sense of the phrase and now that he was back he'd been so tentative and delicate she'd obviously turned to someone else. The night he'd come back, the one he'd spent holding her on the deck of her dead brother's house, something had sparked in his mind. Owen realised he was in love with her, more than that, he loved her so much he was hurting for her. He loved her so much that he couldn't tell her. He'd been there for her, in any way she needed him. First he'd walked her to the trailer, promising her he wasn't leaving again and finally getting her to let go of his uniform long enough to change into sweats and spend those couple hours before sunrise holding her in the trailer's bed. Then he let her do her thing, at work, he'd let her ignore him and his presence, taking comfort only in the notion that he was indeed there with her. When he'd offered her to cook dinner she'd wrinkled her nose, worried it was steak or burgers again, but instead he'd surprised her with homemade lasagna, his mother had made it, but she was positively glowing when he managed to sit her down and eat with him. It hurt him to think it was probably the first time in months she'd done that. Apparently, it wasn't.

According to what he'd heard on his way out, Amelia and Jackson Avery had been getting closer all the while he and April were away. It was only recently, with the separation that they had started hanging out so much. They came in together and left together more often than not. They had lunch together and sometimes disappeared together in the hospital. Owen felt his blood boil in his veins. It was a joke. All those nights Amelia had crawled into his bed, late and without saying a word. All those times he'd woken her up when she was having a nightmare and she'd cry into his shoulder meant nothing. Not anymore. They were everything, they were what was holding him off in returning as chief of surgery and now it felt like he'd been wasting all this time for nothing. Amelia was in fact jumping from one bed to the other, not feeling guilty or inappropriate in the slightest.

Owen stopped the truck in front of the trailer and peeked briefly over at the house, where the lights were still out. Amelia wasn't there. Amelia was rarely there, she was always at the trailer or at the hospital. Actually he didn't know that, he didn't know where she was all those nights she wasn't on call, but didn't show up to sleep next to him. Well, now he knew. He could _assume_ she was with Jackson. The thought made him gag. Not in a million years he would have thought they could be together, not when he thought of her as his. Owen walked inside and changed into something a lot more comfortable. Debating whether he should just drown his sorrow in beer and beer and more beer. He opened the fridge and looked around for inspiration, more than actual food or drinks. He found something then, a plate full of what looked like homemade chocolate chip cookies. Owen took them out and stared at them, he had no idea where they came from, certainly he had not taken up baking and his mom had never allowed him too much chocolate. Even now, she never gave him chocolate, it was because of that – he was almost convinced – he had a soft spot for chocolate and chocolate cookies in particular. Putting them on the counter he saw something falling to the ground, it was a note. _Don't eat them all without me –A._ She must have left them here this morning, he had an early shift and had decided to let her sleep a little longer, when he'd opened the fridge to get eggs they had not been here. Owen was confused, he was confused and he didn't know what to think anymore. To be fair, he had been so wrapped up in his own world, thinking about her more than he should have, more than he would have liked to. He'd been blind to whatever was going on with her that went beyond her interaction with him. He'd been worried at first and she had noticed he followed her sometimes and checked up on her so much she had sat him down and told him she was making an actual effort to deal with her life, but that he had to let her do it.

Owen stared at the cookies and at the note, back and forth, trying and failing to make sense of it. She was now out on a date with Avery and she come by later for what – girl talk and cookies? Owen shook his head. Somehow he'd turned into the gay friend, not only he'd become the friend, but he was now that kind of friend. He felt slighted. He'd missed something that must have been blatantly obvious because to him this made no sense and if he hadn't seen them with his own two eyes he wouldn't have believed April. So, really, he was mad. Mad at Amelia. Because he'd thought what they had was more, more than friendship and more than just getting to know one another. Owen grabbed the cookies and a beer, he never drank when she came over, which lately meant that he never drank. Tonight, though, called for the liquid comfort of alcohol and cookies. If she was out having fun with another man he would eat them all – he'd try, there were really a lot – by himself and feel no guilt whatsoever. It was a little over an hour later that he saw a car pull into the driveway of the house. Her car had been parked there the whole time – Owen decided not to think about how she'd even made it to the hospital today. He couldn't see anything from where he was and he wasn't completely sure that he wanted to, so when Amelia stepped out of the car alone and went to open the door and get inside, he was relieved to see the car drive away. Actually he wasn't just relieved, it felt more like a huge weight off his chest. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, feeling a headache forming, just like April's – he should have known. He'd been worrying and thinking and imagining things and trying to make sense out of a situation that clearly didn't and it was finally getting to him.

"You started without me."

He looked up to see her standing a few feet from the wooden steps of the trailer's porch. Owen just stared at her completely at loss. Should he be happy she was here, mad, jealous – he had no idea, he had no idea if he was even entitled to have such feelings about her moving on with someone else when he hadn't given her the chance – apparently. He shrugged his shoulders and noticed something about Amelia. She was standing there, keys and phone in one hand, dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater. She was dressed as she always was when she spent the night with him. His shoulders fell. He was supposed he to do this knowing what he did – not that he didn't want to, even though she was seeing Avery. "I was hungry."

She frowned, recognising an edge to his voice, a foreign one, one that meant there was something going on with him. He was so passive aggressive sometimes he made her want to pull her hair out. She walked up, sat on the other chair and grabbed a cookie. "Are they any good?" he nodded absently, she knew they were. It was either that or he was starving because he'd eaten at least half of them. "I wasn't sure about the doses, it's been a long time since I made them last."

He nearly chocked on the cookie he was chewing. "You made them?"

"Yeah." She looked into his eyes and just like before she knew something was off. Last night they were fine and now he was… irritated with her, not quite angry, but it was obvious something was bugging him. "Used to make them for the kids, but… I did. Your Mom told me how she never let you have them so, yep I made the cookies."

Owen wanted to scream. At the top of his lungs. He wanted to understand and he wanted answers to questions he didn't want to ask. She made the cookies for him specifically, she'd thought of him and she did this for him. _Just_ for him. He had no idea how that figured with Jackson Avery. "Thanks. They're really good."

"It was nothing. Maybe I can teach you sometime."

With that they just fell into silence, an awkward and tense kind of silence. Amelia was busy replaying all of today into her head, trying to pin point something she might have said or done to cause such a reaction from him. She knew it was her, he'd come home angry and frustrated about other things before and not once had he taken it out on her. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she had no time to notice him start to fidget and nervously wring his fingers in his lap. Owen didn't look up at her, he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he opted for a casual tone and what he'd hoped to be a random sounding question. "So, you, uh, went out for dinner?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question. "Yeah."

Owen never looked up from his hands, certainly he didn't look up to see the look in her eyes. It hurt to think that he was, right this second, possibly ruin their relationship, friendship, whatever it was, but he was firmly convinced it would hurt him more to try to ignore it and go on pretending that nothing was going on. At least he'd know. "Was it any good?"

Amelia shrugged nonchalantly, if just Owen looked up he'd see she was not in the slightest touched by his questions. But he didn't. "It was dinner."

"Good company, then?" He'd seen the smile on her face when she'd walked up to the trailer and he'd hated her for it. It was all backwards. He'd hated her for being happy, only because she wasn't happy with him. He'd come to the point where he had accepted that Cristina and him couldn't be happy together so she'd left and he'd let her go. With him and Amelia, though, there was no reason why they couldn't be happy together, apart from all those they had clearly stated to each other a year ago.

"Good enough." Amelia looked at him pointedly, overly annoyed at his arched eyebrows and casual tone that had nothing casual about it. She had no idea what his problem was, but he'd better get over it, fast. "What is this?"

He looked up with a look in his eyes that made her want to slap him silly. It was innocent and challenging at the same time, he was looking at her as if he'd caught her doing something and this was supposed to be some sort of confrontation. "I was wondering the same thing."

Amelia's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared in her hairline and her eyes widened at his words. What the hell. "Owen, what's going on?"

He shrugged his shoulders, but he was angry. She didn't even have the decency to feel like it was out of place or like she was using him. She was the centre of her own freaking world and expected everyone else to just gravitate around, ready whenever she was. "I don't know, Amelia." He sat up straighter, turning around to face her directly. "You tell me."

"Well, I don't know what's going on. I come home and you're all pissed about something and I'm trying to figure out what I did, but I can't. So, why don't _you_ tell me." She spat angrily. She was tired, had a relatively exhausting day and quite an emotionally loaded night, she had been hoping to come here, have a few cookies and enjoy the dreamless sleep Owen's presence allowed her.

He looked at her completely stunned. She was unbelievable. "What are you even doing here?" he ignored the hurt look that fell upon her face and felt his own heart hurt hearing his words. "What am I to you? Your surrogate brother? A friend? Someone you go to when you're sad and lonely?"

Amelia felt tears in her eyes. She had no idea what got into him, but he was mad. Angry. Furious. There was metaphorical smoke coming out of his ears. She'd known the second she'd spotted the beer bottle on the table something was not right. She'd told him numerous times it was okay for him to drink even if she was there, but he refrained anyway, something she was endlessly grateful for. That bottle right there was a stab in the stomach. Truth was, she had no idea what he was to her, she knew she was probably going to have to something about that soon, he was a good guy and he obviously cared and was letting her have time and space, but he was a guy and he needed answers sooner rather than later. She had not been sure of herself enough to take the plunge and just let go. What they had was comfortable and rewarding and it was easy. She liked that, some days it even made her want more, but for now that was good enough. "What happened, Owen?" she asked, her voice sounded more watery than she would have liked.

He looked at her, head shaking slightly, shoulders sagging. "You were out with Jackson Avery."

She looked at him waiting for him to continue, to get to the part that actually bothered him. He didn't, he was just staring back at her with an expecting look of his own. "I was."

"And now you're here with me."

"I am." She was following, only she wasn't getting it. Yet again she waited for him to keep talking, to actually spit out what it was that had him in such a foul mood, but he didn't and Amelia groaned frustrated. He was infuriating. She was sleepy and feeling a bit too emotional and he was not making any sense. Also, she had no idea how he'd known about her and Jackson. It wasn't a secret, not one she'd wasted any effort in trying to keep and he was acting like he'd just gone through her skeleton closet and fished out the one at the bottom. There was a lot she didn't want him to know about their meetings, things she'd probably tell him when time was right, but that for now would stay between the two of them. It was an unlikely match, she knew, but they found they had a lot in common. They were both alone, his wife was on the other side of the world with the only person who still remembered she existed here in Seattle. They had both lost a child, something he didn't know, but that he figured out one day, when she was trying to comfort him and said something that hit a little too close to home. They had grown a lot closer, being each other's people. For a few weeks, the rumour going around was that they were dating – it was hilariously ridiculous and… Amelia let out a breath. What an utter moron. That's exactly what he thought. The second her eyes met his she knew she was right. "You're an idiot." She sniffled, wiping the tear that was falling down her cheek.

"Excuse me?"

She shook her head, now it all made a lot of sense. The beer, the snarky comments, all the cookies he'd eaten. "You think I went out with Jackson, on a date or something, and then I came here to you?" he shrugged and nodded, almost imperceptibly. "You. Are. An idiot, Owen Hunt."

He was getting all flustered and irritated. "Will you please stop with that and explain."

"I'm not dating Jackson, we're friends." He huffed, clearly it was word to word the perfect excuse, not that she needed to justify herself to him, but still. "We're not like that. We're friends, just friends and good friends. We've been friends for a while now."

Owen nodded and sat back. Of course they were friends. That's why she had his sweatshirt and that's why he'd taken her out to dinner – tonight and who knows how many other times. It always started with friends, but again, out of all his friends he didn't do those things with them. "Friends." He muttered, raising his eyebrows sceptically and turning the corner of his lips downward.

Amelia had enough. "Yes, friends. We became friends because his wife left him to go fix soldiers in the desert and I… I was alone. He didn't know about us, but he picked up on it and we had this patient we worked on for a few weeks together and we… bonded over that, I guess."

"You _bonded_?"

"We did. It seems we have a lot in common. We started talking and it made both of us feel better to have someone again." She blew out a breath, feeling all shaky. Her voice cracked here and there while she talked and her vision was blurry with unshed tears. "He doesn't let it show, but he'd been through a lot and I knew how he was feeling and we just ended up being there for each other. But it's just that. I don't see him like that, besides he's married."

Owen nodded. He was starting to feel worse, not because April had been right, but it appeared Amelia and Jackson were indeed friends and just friends and he had not given her any credit, jumping to the worst possible conclusion right away. She was telling the truth and he was sure of that. Her watery, unsteady voice and her glassy eyes were proof enough to make him feel like an idiot indeed. "So," he tried tentatively. "you and Jackson Avery are friends?"

Amelia shook her head, a little exasperated and disappointed in him. "Owen." He turned and looked at her straight in the eyes. Her big, blue, watery eyes. "His baby died. Jackson and April's baby died. For some reason, just because he can plaster a smile on his face, everyone thought he was okay. April's not the only one who suffered. It's hard. In the beginning everyone knows, everyone remembers, but as time goes on if you hide your scars well enough people forget you have them in the first place." She looked down, feeling hot tears sliding down her cheeks. Owen reached across the table to take her hand and gave it a squeeze. Amelia let him, but a second and a half later she pulled away, hastily wiping away her tears. "I know exactly what that feels like. I was alone to begin with. But on top of everything, he felt abandoned. I was able to talk about things I had never really had. I mean, talk about things to someone who can understand precisely what I'm saying. Everyone tried to understand, but unless you've been there… sometimes we go up to look at the newborns in the nursery. It feels, I don't know, different. More meaningful with him, because he sees exactly what I see."

Owen now just felt plain stupid. Amelia and Jackson had become friends over their mutual loneliness and the loss of their children. He just wanted to hug her and forget about tonight. Maybe text April. Give her a good night's sleep. However, when he reached out to her she drew back, curling as much as she could into the chair. "Amelia." He called softly, his hand extended as far as his arm could go. Still, she didn't even look up. Sighing, Owen stood and walked around the table to her, crouching in front of her, putting his hands on her knees. "Amelia, can you please look at me?" she just shook her head and Owen swallowed thickly. If a few minutes ago he had been angry with her because he thought she was seeing someone, he now wanted to take all this pain away from her. It was old and something he had not been a part of, but he still hated to see her like this. "Amelia please, I'm sorry."

When that didn't work, he realised he needed to change his strategy. He took her hands, using whatever force necessary to resist her feeble attempt to pull away and stood, taking her with him. Then and only then she looked up at him, surprised. He smiled. A comforting, soft smile that he hoped would make her more agreeable and would be enough to make sure he was in the right position to make things better between them. When her lips curved upward, it wasn't a full blown smile, but he'd take all he could get. He slid an arm around her waist. "Let's go inside."

He let her through first, the narrow spaces of the trailer only allowed for one person at the time, but kept his hand on her hip all the way to the bed. When they reached the edge she hesitated and noting her uneasiness he sat down first and scooted back until his head was on his pillow comfortably. He was about to look up, see where she was, when he heard her crawl on the bed. While she usually kept on what had become her side of the bed, he felt her close, so close. Amelia had, in fact, curled right into him and the only thing he could do was to wrap his arms around her. His arm was holding tightly on her, while his other hand went to her hair, smoothly running through the strands. He leaned down to kiss her head and he heard a sob. "My baby died, Owen."

"I know," he whispered against her hair. "I know."

Amelia turned up, finding his face inches from her. "I can't tell you about that. I want to, but I just can't."

He stroked her cheek, feeling his chest tighten again. The green eyed monster reminding him that she talked to Jackson Avery about that, but not to him. At the end of the day he was the one holding her in bed tonight, yet she wouldn't tell him. "It's okay. Just know that I'm here. I'm not leaving, not again. If you'll ever want to I'll be here to listen." Amelia nodded against his chest, but said nothing. He had a thousand feelings going around it was a mess, like different drugs mixing in his blood, causing all kinds of reactions. Owen was still unsure about this Jackson business, but – again – she was here with him, so he'd take the win. He should have been glad that she'd found someone while he was away, he should have been happy for her, happy that she had made friends. He was still jealous and he didn't know what to do about it.

Amelia must have sensed it, because she snuggled deeper into his chest, her own arms unwrapping from her body and going around his back, hugging him to her. Hard. She had leaned her head into his neck and relaxed, breathing in the smell of clean clothes and her cookies. Her forehead was pressing right against his pulse point and she'd felt the change, out of nowhere, a few seconds ago. So she'd rubbed his back, as far as she could reach, ending up scratching his skin lightly right below his ribcage and she'd turned her head into him. "You're not a surrogate brother. Or a friend." She whispered and kissed his neck, without even moving. When she heard his breath hitch and his arms tighten around her she just closed her eyes and smiled, letting herself fall asleep in the arms of this idiot. It seemed, though, he was destined to be _her_ idiot.


End file.
